The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12. Кейт Хьюит

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      She willed herself not to react to the insult. ‘Yes, Highness.’

      ‘But what about your clothes? Your belongings?’

      ‘They’re in that holdall over there,’ she said, pointing.

      He scowled at the modestly sized and threadbare carpet-bag which was sitting on the straw. ‘And that’s all you’ve brought?’

      ‘Yes.’ Shamefully, Eleni felt a blush begin to stain her cheeks.

      ‘But you’re supposed to be here for good!’ he exploded. ‘Not for an overnight stay!’

      ‘There is no problem—I can wash my clothes out by hand every night, Highness. It is what I am used to.’

      The irony did not escape him. One moment she was modestly looking at the ground—and yet now she was telling her prince about washing out her most intimate garments! Kaliq felt a slow rage begin to simmer in his blood—and not simply because she had been insubordinate. No, because that flush of pink to her cheeks had made her eyes look as green as pistachios and as bright as new leaves—and, unwittingly and inappropriately, he could feel the sudden hot stir of lust at his groin.

      It was a familiar ache. An appetite which demanded to be fed. Desire could sometimes be all the more powerful when it was indiscriminate—and Kaliq was a highly sexed man.

      Part of him wanted to throw her down onto the straw and have done with it. For there was no surer way of losing desire for a woman than to take your fill of her. But he sensed that Eleni might be slow to realise that her duty was to please her sheikh in every aspect that he demanded. His mouth curved into a smile. She would soon learn.

      ‘You may be a stable girl with nothing in the way of social engagements—but you are also a representative of the royal house of Al’Farisi,’ he bit out as he forced his mind away from the hard ache at his groin. ‘And as such—you will not be dressed in rags and looking like a scullery girl! Is that understood?’

      ‘Y-yes, Highness.’

      He clapped his hands and a young, veiled servant appeared from the shadows. ‘This is Amina,’ he said briefly. ‘She will settle you in and ensure that you have something suitable to wear.’

      Pleased that his irritation seemed to have disappeared, Eleni gave an obedient nod. ‘Thank you, Highness.’

      His black eyes raked over her critically. ‘And make sure you wash that straw out of your hair.’

      Her cheeks still stinging, Eleni dropped to a deep curtsey but he had already swept out and her heart began to pound nervously. Didn’t he realise how formidable he could be? How an inexperienced young woman could be daunted by the powerful mix of man and majesty?

      Her fingers flew nervously to her hair. Did she really look such a fright, then? And she wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to judge. Appearance had never been number one on Eleni’s list of priorities—there simply hadn’t been the time, quite apart from anything else.

      Amina led the way through the back of the palace and even though Eleni knew that these were the servants’ quarters—it was still a brand-new experience for her. She could not imagine finding a scorpion here—or having to boot a rogue rat away from the back door.

      And when at last Amina opened a door and indicated that Eleni should precede her, she thought that there must have been some kind of oversight.

      ‘What… what is this?’ she stumbled.

      ‘This is your room,’ said Amina, but Eleni shook her head and did not move.

      ‘There must be some kind of mistake,’ she told Amina as she took in the wide divan, the cool tiled floors and the intricate lamps which hung from the ceiling. Unshuttered windows looked out onto a serene rectangle of water where a fountain played soft, soothing music. It was like an illustration from one of those poetry books she used to read in school. The ones which used to send her off into an unachievable world of longing. Eleni swallowed. ‘These can’t be my quarters.’

      Amina nodded. ‘But they are.’

      ‘And will I have to share the bed and the room with another servant?’

      ‘No, Eleni,’ said Amina gently. ‘You are in the royal palace now and that means you are to have your own room.’

      Eleni’s heart beat faster with a kind of puzzled fear. ‘But… but I am just his stable girl!’

      Amina’s expression remained closed. ‘My role here is simply to obey instructions, not to question them,’ she said. ‘And since the sheikh values his horses more highly than diamonds themselves—those who tend them are also highly valued.’

      Was Eleni being ultra-sensitive—or was there something which Amina wasn’t telling her? ‘Thank you,’ she said uncertainly.

      ‘And there are new clothes hanging over here in that tall cupboard. Come and take a look.’

      Eleni blinked as the girl opened the door, for surely this was a rail of clothes for twenty women and not just one? They were the typical Calistan tunic with slim-fitting trousers beneath—but these were made from silk, not the coarse cotton she was used to. And, like the rainbow which often followed the desert rains, Eleni had never seen so many hues—from vibrant to pale, with every shade in between.

      ‘And I have drawn you a bath,’ continued Amina.

      Eleni stared at her. ‘A bath?’ she repeated blankly.

      Amina pushed open yet another door and there, gleaming and steaming, was a large bath, set low into the ground and lined with gold. Eleni stood and gazed at it in dazzled fascination.

      ‘By the falcon’s wing!’ she exclaimed. ‘Who is this for?’

      Amina gave a little smile. ‘It is for you, Eleni,’ she said gently. ‘All for you.’

      Eleni blinked, the unexpected sting of salt blurring her eyes. ‘This is truly amazing,’ she whispered in awe.

      Amina nodded. ‘I felt the same when first I was brought to the palace. Now, do you wish for me to assist you with your bathing?’

      But if the thought of the bath was a daunting prospect, then the idea of getting naked in front of anyone made Eleni want to run a million miles in fear. ‘Oh, no! Thank you, Amina—but I will manage by myself.’

      Seeing the wide, square bath filled with scented water had dazed her, but more shocking still was Eleni’s unexpected glimpse of herself in a mirror. How long since she had looked in a mirror? Not since school. Her father had banned them in the house as being indicators of vanity and there had seemed little need for her to gaze at herself.

      But now she did and the sight which greeted her could not have been worse. Her face was engrained with desert dirt—and streaking over her cheeks were paler tracts where beads of sweat must have trickled down during the long, hot ride here. Her thick hair was dull and desperately in need of a wash and her clothes were covered with a fine layer of sand.

      Eleni almost wept. Where was any trace of her femininity? Why, she looked more like a street urchin СКАЧАТЬ